For the Cold Will Fall
by AgentTiva
Summary: When Rumplestiltskin drinks a potion in order to leave Storybrooke without losing his memory, something goes terribly wrong and Rumplestiltskin is left unconscious. Belle is the only one who can rescue him. Will she?


**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time. **

It was cold, uncomfortably so. It was the kind of cold that no matter how high the heater was there was no escaping the chill. Belle sat in her library, hugging her pale arms to her chest, desperate to warm herself. It had been frightfully cold all day and the night had proven to be much worse. She fidgeted nervously with the buttons on her shirt, straightening imaginary wrinkles on her skirt.

The cold ate at her nerves, leaving Belle distraught. She had settled on reading a book to calm her nerves and sooth her discomfort, but only managed to read a few chapters before a strange feeling settled within her. The cold was the least of her worries, and though she could lie to herself and say it was the bitter cold getting at her nerves, she knew it was more. Earlier that morning, Belle had crossed Mr. Gold's Pawnshop only to discover the, "Closed" sign still hung in the window. She recalled thinking it was strange. Mr. Gold was never late and rarely, if ever, took a day off.

Assuming he was probably on his way, she quickly sheltered herself from the frosty air within her newly-opened library. When lunch arrived, Belle took her break; she re-visited Mr. Gold's shop, only to discover a locked door and a mocking, "Closed" sign hanging in Mr. Gold's Pawnshop. That is the moment in which the _cold_ began to creep deep within her bones. It numbed her toes, crawled up her legs, and tore at her thoughts. It was the chill of worry. Belle was worried for Mr. Gold, no, for Rumplestiltskin.

They had not spoken after their moment in the library; Belle had not seen him since. Despite their troubles, Belle cared deeply for Rumplestiltskin, in all actuality, his absence made her feel quite lonely. She wished to see him, to see he was alright, hence, her visits to his shop. Now, she sat in a silent library with a half-read book, numb toes, chilled yet sweaty hands, and nagging thoughts that her Rumplestiltskin was in trouble. It was well into the night, as she contemplated whether or not she should call him or perhaps visit him, briefly, of course. She settled for a quick visit and dashed for her coat.

Impatience leading her actions, she walked briskly toward Mr. Gold's Pawnshop to check one last time for his presence, only to be disappointed, once again, with a dark shop and a, "Closed" sign. Her heels clicked violently against the pavement as she half-ran toward Rumplestiltskin's house; the wind biting at her reddened cheeks. Something was wrong. Something was _definitely_ wrong. She could sense it, in the pit of her stomach, in the depths of her heart she could feel her true love was in trouble. A dull ache grew inside her chest, a soft throbbing of her heart brought tears to her eyes. _He's hurt. He's hurt. _Belle repeated painfully within the silent confines of her mind. Not bothering to waste her time on knocking, she stepped into Rumplestiltskin's house. Following her heart, now beating wildly in her protesting chest, Belle arrived in the living room to find an unconscious Rumplestiltskin.

Her body froze, the cold had won. Belle dropped to her knees as the tears bubbled over her bottom eyelids in worry. _What's wrong?_ She wanted to speak; she wanted to wake him, but she couldn't find her voice. A stream of blood leaked from Rumplestiltskin's nose, and in his left hand he gripped a potion bottle containing a crimson liquid. Belle grasped the bottle, searching for any hint of the contents of the liquid; the action proved useless for it was unlabeled.

The beating madness in her chest quickened as she observed his pale face. She placed a delicate diminutive hand on his forehead, jolting away when icy-filled tingles shocked her fingertips. He was freezing. Belle peeled off her coat and wrapped it around his chilled frame, while rubbing her hands against his arms in order to warm him. Warm tears splashed on his face, as Belle began bawling. Luckily, she had found her voice and managed calling his name. A few moments past with no reaction, Belle gasped as she recalled true loves kiss. True loves kiss will break any curse. _But is Rumplestiltskin cursed? Will it work?_ She figured it was best to try. Her chestnut curls fell around his resting head as she gently pressed her lips to his. Rumplestiltskin's eyes shot open with a gasp, causing Belle to jump back, slightly startled by his reaction.

"Rumple!" She cried with relief, excitement raising the volume of her voice.

He mumbled incompressible words for a moment then spoke, "Belle? Belle is that you?" A reply was unnecessary for his eyes opened and were ceremoniously greeted with her beautiful cerulean eyes. He watched her for a moment, in awe, remembering their previous encounter and wondering why she would come to his rescue.

"Why are you here? I thought, after our last…you wouldn't want to see me anymore." He asked, honestly confused by her presence; Belle grew slightly annoyed at his question.

He should not be the one questioning her; it should be reversed, "I was worried, but I should be asking _you _the questions. Why were you drinking potions?"

Rumplestiltskin attempted to sway her thoughts, as he sat up, trying to avoid her gaze, "Drinking potions, whatever do you mean dearie?"

"I saw the bottle Rumple!" She countered, her face reddening with anger.

He sighed, retrieved his cane, and slowly began to stand. His knee shrieked in agony at the unwelcome movement, and as punishment, gave out. Rumplestiltskin reached for the wall closest to him in order to catch his fall, but his hand slipped and he began tumbling toward the ground.

Much to Rumplestiltskin's surprise, Belle swathed her delicate arms around him, quickly catching his falling frame. In spite of her petite body, she was able to support half of Rumplestiltskin's weight as he wrapped his arm around her waist in order to properly lean against her. The angle in which she caught him allowed her to observe his face in a brighter shade of light. She noticed, now, his eyes wore a darker shade of brown—almost black—and the outer rims of his eyelids looked bruised with exhaustion. There was fine stubble beginning to grow on his cheeks and jaw-line; his lips were cracked with dryness. A tinge of pity bubbled in her heart and she desperately wished to heal whatever pain it was that menacingly danced in the darkness of his eyes. He huffed with fatigue; his gaze intently fix upon the floor.

"Maybe you should sit?" Without waiting for an answer, Belle half-dragged him to the nearest sofa chair where he plopped down defeated.

Belle hesitated for a moment then asked, "Rumple, what was in the bottle?"

He did not respond immediately, and Belle worried he would not tell her. Surely after everything he would tell her something? Moments passed and he finally began.

"As I have said before: magic is power." Belle was unsatisfied with the answer.

"But why the potion?"

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, sighing, accepting that his Belle was just too intelligent to fool.

"I was practicing with a few spells and I discovered a potion that allows protection of the memory from any curse," he paused for a moment for Belle to understand.

"Wait, so…you drank this potion," she held the glass bottle in her small fingers, "so you could leave Storybrooke."

"Exactly."

"How?"

"The potion was supposed to protect my memory from any curse, so when I tried to leave Storybrooke-"

"You wouldn't loose your memory," Belle finished his statement.

"Precisely…but something malfunction, apparently and I was placed in what I assume was a coma or perhaps a sleeper spell. Luckily, you found me and awoke me with…" He gazed at her now, shyly meeting her eyes.

Rumplestiltskin had been avoiding her gaze for sometime, embarrassed by his foolish mistake of causing himself harm with his own use of magic.

"True loves kiss," Belle whispered—almost inaudible—yet unmistakably there.

"Yes," he spoke in a soft voice, paused, then continued, "but what I don't understand is why? Why, Belle? Why would you save me after everything—everything—I've done?"

Belle could no longer meet his gaze, and her eyes sheepishly fell upon the ground. Rumplestiltskin placed a finger beneath her bowed chin, and lifted her eyes to meet his. Her cerulean eyes drowned in his honey chocolate ones; their breathing hitched.

"I-I was worried," she stammered, a coiling tingle settling in her stomach.

His eyes grew just a touch darker; his voice unusually husky, "Yes, I know that, but why did you save me?"

Belle's lips twitched with nervousness, "Well, wouldn't you have saved me?"

"Of course, but that doesn't answer my question."

"Well then, I guess you'll never know." With that she stood and made for the door, but a hand was quickly around her wrist, pulling her back into Rumplestiltskin's embrace.

"Why, Belle?" He begged in a pleading whisper, pained urgency tainting his voice.

She turned to face him; he, now, stood behind her waiting for a response.  
"Because I-" She could not bring herself to say it; she was still too angry with him for waiting so long to be honest with her.  
"Why can't you say it Belle? Have I ruined us that much that you no longer-"

"I love you." Honesty laced itself throughout her gently-spoken words; she meant it.

"But, I am still angry with you for not being honest with me after I asked you, though I appreciate you coming to the library and explaining everything."

"Oh, Belle-" He wanted to explain himself, but she timidly interjected, "I miss you Rumple," he fell silent, waiting for her to continue.

"It's so lonesome in the library-" she paused, "it's not the same without you—this world, I mean. Without you, it just doesn't seem worth living for. I don't want to be angry anymore—I'm not angry anymore."

He did not know how to respond so he continued with, "Well, perhaps tomorrow I could buy you a dog or a cat, anything you would like to keep you compan-" she interrupted his cowardly attempt to withdrawn, her anger increasing, "Rumple! I miss you."

She watched him through pleading eyes as he spoke, "Belle, I-I—you deserve better, I've already hurt you enough. I will not do it again," she watched him with a growing smile as she placed a cream-skinned hand on his cheek, meet his gaze and softly spoke, "And that is why I love _you_."

His brow knitted in confusion; he did not comprehend how Belle could love him after everything.

"I don't want anything better. I want you. I know, now, that you can be honest with me and you have proven that and I-" he waited, hope pouring through his system; her gaze fell from his eyes as she continued, "I want to be with you," his eyes wore a heavy black when Belle returned her gaze to them.

Amazingly, Rumplestiltskin closed the space between them, crushing his lips to her, waiting for a response, before plunging his tongue into her mouth. She tasted sweet, warm, and loving. Belle slid her hands into his hair, tugging lightly, earning a soft moan from him, and she smiled against his lips. He tasted like honey, tea, and joy. Rumplestiltskin dropped his cane, and wrapped both his arms around her small frame, running them all over her back. Her arms prickled with gooseflesh, made their way to the front of his shirt, and began innocently tugging on his tie. He pulled away as if he had been burned, or suddenly awaken from a wonderful dream, "Belle, we shouldn't. Not yet, let's give ourselves-" he was interrupted when Belle's lips came up to meet his, once again.

He pleasantly indulged in the moment, cheerfully drowning in her essence, before pulling back, "Belle," his voice was firm now.

Reluctantly, Belle released her grip on his hair, pulling away just enough to meet his gaze.

"What are we waiting for?" She asked, frustrated with impatience.

"I want to do this right. I am not going to ruin this again, so instead of jumping head first into bed, why don't I ask you out to dinner first," he paused, "if you'll have it."

She sighed and accepted his answer then added, "But just because we aren't jumping into bed head first doesn't mean we can't," she puckered her lips innocently—almost childlike—earning a chuckle from Rumple.

"Oh my darling Belle, you'll be the death of me."

"I hope not." She added before rising on her toes to give him another kiss.

**Feedback is always appreciated on my behalf. Thank you for reading.  
**


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